Dark Marks Are Forever (but feelings can change)
by isaacswolfsbane
Summary: Collection of one-shots based around canon Death Eaters. / 1 - Muggle!au. Regulus works as an assassin for Tom Riddle but he's not okay with the way things are done. WARNING for depictions of torture and character death. Nothing too graphic. / 2 - Draco wants to escape the past and move on with his life. What better way to do that than move to Romania to become a healer?
1. it's cold and it's dark (and there's no

**QLFC Round 2 - Jurassic Fever;  
** Arrows, Captain - Write about a 'dark' character who needs comfort/affection.

 **AN:** Muggle!AU where Voldemort's Death Eaters are contract killers/assassins.

 **Warning** for depictions of torture and character death. Nothing too graphic, though.

Thanks to Bex and Jas for betaing :)

For Emy because I feel terrible about not finishing your Secret Santa fic and I know you love Regulus.

* * *

 **it's cold and it's dark (and there's no way out)**

Darkness seems to pour from every corner as Regulus creeps through the hallways of Grimmauld Place. He knows it's illogical, but as he passes the portraits of his ancestors, he swears he can feel their eyes following his progress. The house is quiet as he descends the first flight of stairs. There's something about the silence that feels wrong to Regulus, though, and it's only because he stops to mull over why that he hears a quiet whimper coming from the direction of his father's study.

He's about to move on when a familiar voice makes him freeze.

"I'm sorry."

The voice is clipped, hard, and full of sarcasm. _Sirius._

"I'm sorry I'm not the son you wanted, that is."

The scream that follows is strained and slightly muffled. It's as if Sirius is gritting his teeth—it wouldn't surprise Regulus, Sirius has a habit of gritting them around their parents, especially when attempting to control his anger.

As Regulus reaches the study, he sees the door is slightly ajar. If he positions himself just right, which he does, he can see inside without the occupants being able to see him.

Sirius is seated in an ornate chair in the centre of the room, their father towering over him. Regulus watches as his father lightly runs the tip of his knife across Sirius' cheek. He won't press too hard, though; his father never leaves marks where people could see them. One look at Sirius' side and Regulus can see his t-shirt is ripped and bloody.

"I told you to apologise." Their father's voice is so harsh Regulus flinches. He wonders how Sirius doesn't. He wonders how many times this has happened without him knowing.

"I did," Sirius replies. His teeth are still gritted, and Regulus wonders if it's out of anger or pain. "If you want a different response you might have to be a bit more specific."

His father laughs, and Regulus can feel the colour drain from his face. Fear runs through his veins as his father moves towards the table. It's only then that Regulus spots what's resting on its perfectly polished surface; one of his father's many decorative swords. They're everywhere in the house, and his father tells any guests they have the tales each sword holds, the history behind them. He even lets them run their hands along the dull blades to reassure them that they won't do any harm. But the one he keeps in his office is different. This one is _fancy_. The Black family crest is emblazoned on the hilt, and the blade is kept sharpened. Regulus knows it sees blood on a regular basis, he just didn't know that the blood belonged to his older brother.

Regulus can't watch as his father turns the point of the sharpened blade on Sirius. As his cries carry through the hall, Regulus flees back to his room, not caring if he's seen.

(Part of him knows he won't be. Nobody's going to come running at the sound of screams; the inhabitants of the house know to keep away.)

* * *

 _Regulus squirms. His hands and feet are bound to the ornate chair he has been forced into. He tries to wiggle free, but a pain in his side stops him. His father looms over him, knife in hand, a manic, twisted expression present on his face that Regulus has never seen before. He can tell his father is enjoying this, enjoying the power he holds over his son._

" _I told you to apologise. I won't tell you again."_

" _But, I don't know what I did. How do I apologise if I don't know what I'm apologising for?"_

 _Regulus hates the way his voice comes out in a whimper. He wants to be strong, to have all the confidence Sirius does while he's in this situation, but his voice betrays the fear that's resonating deep within his bones._

" _Don't lie to me, boy."_

 _His father runs the knife along Regulus' stomach and he can't help but cry out._

" _You're as bad as your brother. Worse, even. At least that little brat knows not to scream."_

 _The knife runs across Regulus' chest this time, but the closer it gets to his stomach, the deeper it seems to be getting. He knows it's too deep now, he knows if his father doesn't stop he'll cause damage that's irreversible. He wonders if that's what his father wants._

 _He tries to call out, tries to tell his father to stop._

And he wakes up in his own bed, sweat drenching his bedsheets, his heart racing.

It takes him a minute to work up the courage to sit up, tensing automatically as the muscles in his stomach contract, expecting a pain that never comes. His hands go to his stomach and side, and he breathes a sigh of relief when they come away clean. It was just a dream.

The realisation it was just a dream isn't enough to calm him, though. When he closes his eyes, hopeful of getting back to sleep, all he can see are images of his father's face staring at his own with a sick sense of enjoyment.

Giving up, Regulus climbs out of bed and goes to seek out the comfort of the one person he knows will understand. Sirius.

"Sirius?" he whispers as he pushes his brother's door open.

"Reg? What are you doing awake?"

Sirius' voice is a little more strained than usual, and Regulus can tell his brother is trying not to show how much pain he's in. He almost wants to leave Sirius be, but if Regulus is having trouble sleeping after witnessing his father's wrath, Sirius must be feeling even worse since he was on the receiving end of it.

"Nightmares," Regulus tells him. He hesitates for a minute before adding, "I saw you and Father in his study."

Sirius' face falls. "Shit. I was hoping you'd never find out about that."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "Even if I hadn't been trying to sneak down to the kitchen, I think your screams would have given it away."

"This house has a habit of concealing noise. I'm not sure how, but noise doesn't travel very well. Have you never noticed that?"

When Regulus doesn't answer, Sirius carefully moves over in his bed and pats the space next to him. Regulus crawls in gratefully and curls up against Sirius' side (the one their father didn't try to slice off), Sirius' arm falling over his brother's shoulders instinctively.

"Why do have to be so… so… impossible? Why do you insist on getting Father riled up like that? All it does is fuel his rage."

"It's because we have no other choice… _I_ have no other choice. Better he takes it out on me than you."

Regulus is silent. He wishes he could disagree with Sirius, but after the dream he had tonight, Regulus knows he wouldn't be able to handle it like Sirius can.

"One day, we'll both get out of this house." The certainty in Sirius' voice calms Regulus slightly. "I have a friend, James. His parents are wealthy enough to take us both in and they're the type of people that treat their son right. I would go to Remus, he's offered to help me get out of here more than once, but I wouldn't want to be a burden. He doesn't like to speak of it, but I can tell his family struggles."

"Tell me about your friends." Regulus hopes stories of people better than their parents would put both his and Sirius' minds at ease.

"I have three. Well, three best friends. James and Remus, as I mentioned, and Peter. He's a bit of a coward. His parents are too. They wouldn't help out even if they wanted to—they wouldn't want to piss off our parents…"

As Sirius speaks, Regulus feels his eyelids drifting shut. He tries to fight for consciousness, enjoying the stories of mischief his brother tells, but ultimately he loses and drifts into a peaceful sleep against Sirius' side.

* * *

 **10 Years Later**

The streets are quiet as Regulus follows his latest victim home. She's the most prestigious target Regulus has been entrusted with taking out so far, and part of him wonders if this is how he can finally prove himself to Riddle.

His extended family fell in with Riddle's business immediately, they gave up their children as pawns for him to play with at an early age, but Regulus' parents refused. They believed Riddle was working for a just cause, of course, but they refused to give up their sons. Then Sirius had run away to join the police force, and that was it for Regulus. In order to gain any status amongst his fellow employees, he had to prove to Riddle that his ties to his brother were long since over.

On the surface, Riddle's business is a family-run used car dealership that he passed onto the Blacks when he invested in a few well-placed stocks, made his fortune, and transitioned into the world of business. He employs a few of the younger members to keep it operational, ones he deems too young to do the 'real work'. Those that are old enough act as hit men, as assassins, as killers that could be hired to discreetly take any oppositions out of the picture.

The majority of the work received is internal. They work for Riddle, taking out targets that impede his success, that question his background, that work towards socialism instead of capitalism, that favour the poor over the rich (Riddle claims this is because the poor can't truly appreciate things being handed to them. Regulus knows it's just because Riddle is prejudiced).

He slinks from one corner to the next, making sure to keep hidden. As he moves in the sweltering summer heat, he wishes he wasn't wearing black, but it was sort of an unspoken rule that if you're on a job for Riddle, you wear black. It's a logical choice since most of the jobs take place at night, but during the summertime, when the sun stays out longer, the heavy, black clothes make you prone to overheating. Regulus knows this, he's been working this job for well over two years, but he doesn't want to jeopardise his position by making a stupid mistake.

The woman he's following is Marlene McKinnon. She's one of the most promising detectives in the force, constantly bringing in new leads on the hunt for the people responsible for the string of murders in the city. Rumour has it she's planning on applying for a position as a sergeant, and if she gets it, Riddle expects she'll try to make the hunt a priority.

As she turns up the drive to her house, Regulus lingers by a lavender bush. He snaps off a few sprigs and is ready with an excuse about cooking a roast at the weekend should anyone question his behaviour.

He has to linger until one o'clock in the morning before the house goes dark and silent. Regulus has circled the blocks a few times by that point, searching for the best point of entry. Luckily, her back garden is encircled by trees and shrubbery—she's obviously a very private person—and Regulus enters the house through the back, obscured from the view of any nosey neighbours.

In theory, it's a quick in-and-out job. It's far too easy to say Marlene is a police officer. He doesn't know the man Marlene sleeps next to, and Regulus doesn't even register the hair colour before both of their throats are slit and life drains from their bodies.

While most of Riddle's workers use guns, Regulus has a fondness for knives.

As Regulus leaves the bedroom, he catches a glimpse of two children curled up in bed together in their own room. It sends painful memories through his head, memories of curling up in bed with Sirius before their mother had disowned him for getting a boyfriend ("No respectable Black lies with another man. Either you end the relationship with him or you end your relationship with this family." Sirius had left before dinner).

He can't get the image of the children out of his mind and he wishes he didn't have to do this, but Riddle specifically told him no survivors and no evidence. There are candles on the windowsill above the stove and Regulus lights them with a shaky hand, watching the flames flicker as they start to burn. Holding a tea towel over the flame, he attempts to kindle the fire, watching as it spreads to the cloth before he sets it down on the countertop. Hands still shaking, he turns on the gas, leaves the oven door slightly ajar, and makes a quick exit out of the back door.

Time seems to freeze as he waits for the fire to catch. He hides nearby, leaving only when the entire kitchen is ablaze with amber flames. Part of him knows he should stay. He should watch as the flames become wild and uncontrollable, as the house is lost to what Regulus hopes is a fire that could only be described as an inferno. But he can't. He can't stay knowing there are two children trapped inside that are either going to sleep through the fire and never wake up, or find their parents dead in the next room.

* * *

"Tell me you bring good news, Black."

Riddle's voice sends shivers down Regulus' spine.

"Yes, my Lord." Regulus has to force the words out of his mouth. It's a title Riddle doesn't deserve, but one everyone uses when addressing him. Regulus hates using it. "Both McKinnon and her husband are dead, their house alight when I left. I expect their charred remains will be found in the morning."

"And the children?"

"Children? My Lord, you didn't tell me they—"

"Silence!" Riddle's eyes survey Regulus, Regulus who is sweating and trembling slightly, Regulus who is willing his face to remain blank, Regulus who is desperate to hide the fact he's lying. "Never mind, I expect they'll be dead by morning too." Riddle pauses, his eyes finally meeting Regulus' own. "You have done well today, Black. You should never have been overlooked."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Leave my sight, immediately."

And Regulus does. He all but runs from the room, desperate to escape to the comfort of his own home.

* * *

Regulus screams as soon as the front door clicks shut. He lights a fire and strips naked, throwing his clothes into the flames to burn the evidence. If he could throw himself in there too to burn the memory of what he had done from his head, he would.

When Regulus is clothed once more, he heads into the kitchen, following the smell of chicken that tells him Kevin is preparing dinner.

"Is everything okay, Master Regulus?"

The family servant, Kevin, came with him when Regulus moved out. He had always been Kevin's favourite—he was the only one who called him by his name. His mother always called him "servant boy", his father had taken to calling him "Kreacher" and treating him more like a slave than a servant, and Sirius had refused to have any contact with him for fear Kevin was spying on him for their parents—and so Kevin had jumped at the chance to move to a smaller house in the suburbs when Regulus had asked.

"Can I trust you, Kevin?"

"Certainly, sir."

Regulus scrapes a hand through his hair. "I'm starting to question Riddle's motives. He…" Regulus' breath started to catch in his throat. "He had me murder a family today. They had children and Riddle… he didn't seem to care… he spoke about them dying with no remorse. That's not normal, Kevin."

"May I ask why you're telling me this, sir?"

"I need to do something about it. I just… I don't know where to start."

Regulus was starting to shake once more. He felt as though he was going to collapse. Kevin, ever observant, raced over to him and helped Regulus into a chair before fetching him a glass of water.

"Thanks," Regulus mumbled as he brought the glass up to his lips.

"It's just… I'm starting to question his judgement. It's making me think of our childhood. Did you know Father used to torture Sirius?"

Kevin had the decency to look sheepish as he admitted, "Yes, sir. Your father had me clean his study afterwards."

"Did you really do that?" Kevin nodded. "I didn't know he did, not until I was thirteen. I wanted to defend him somehow but I couldn't. I didn't understand how he could do that to his own son, I still don't."

"Rest, sir," Kevin says. "The solution will come to you in the morning, I'm sure."

* * *

Regulus' nightmares wake him three times throughout the night.

In the first, he dreams he's one of the children he sentenced to death that night.

In the second, his father looms over him while Riddle stands in the background forcing him to torture his son.

In the third, Regulus stands over his father's sleeping body, knife in hand, ready to draw it across the sleeping man's throat.

When he wakes for real, the answer seems simple. He has to take out Riddle, possibly his father, too. In practice, it's going to be hard, he knows that. He'll need to be both precise and subtle while gaining Riddle's trust.

Right now, he only wishes he had Sirius there. Regulus wishes he was thirteen years old again, crawling into his big brother's bed to be soothed from a nightmare that would be long forgotten when he woke up. He wished he could go back in time and protect his brother. He wishes he was still part of Sirius' life, that Sirius could help him with this.

But he's none of those things. He's twenty-three and living the nightmare every day. And while comfort is the preferred option, it's time he did something about that.

* * *

 **Word Count:** 3,000.

* * *

 **This is for:**

 _ **Hogwarts Assignment 12 – Muggle Studies;  
**_ _Task 4 – Write about someone who's dangerous._

 _ **Hogwarts Yearly Event – Insane House Challenge;  
**_ _966\. (word count) 3,000._

 _ **Hogwarts Yearly Event – 365 Prompts;  
**_ _56\. (colour) Amber._

 _ **Hogwarts Yearly Event – Fanfic Resolutions;  
**_ _32\. Write something hurt/comfort.  
49\. Write a fic exploring one character only. No pairings.  
62\. Write a collection based around Death Eaters.  
68\. Write a gift fic for a Ravenclaw._

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Character Appreciation;  
**_ _24\. (character) Regulus Black._

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Disney;  
**_ _S2. In Summer – Write a story set in summer._

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Book Club;  
**_ _Governor Dragna – (word) fear, (word) power, (flower) lavender._

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Showtime;  
**_ _5\. (word) impossible._

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Amber's Attic;  
**_ _4\. Write about someone proving themselves._

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Count Your Buttons;  
**_ _O1. Sword.  
D3. "It's because we have no other choice."  
W5. Fancy._

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Lo's Lowdown;  
**_ _C7. (word) Overlooked._

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Summer Prompts;  
**_ _(word) Heat._

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Colour Prompts;  
**_ _(colour) Amber._

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Birthstones;  
**_ _Onyx – "I'm sorry that I'm not the son/daughter you wanted."_

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Fire Element;  
**_ _(word) Inferno._

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Shay's Musical Challenge;  
**_ _Chicago – Write about a murder._

 _ **Hogwarts June Club – Gobstones;  
**_ _Black Stone – Dreams.  
(word) Blank, (dialogue) "Did you really do that?", (word) Simple._

 _ **Hogwarts June Club – Dragon Breeding;  
**_ _Swedish Short-Snout (Peter) – wc:_

 _ **Hogwarts June Event – Eagle Day;  
**_ _Marietta Edgecombe – (word) defend, (emotion) fear._

 _ **Hogwarts June Event – Hot Air Balloon Day;  
**_ _(word) Subtle._

 _ **Hogwarts June Event – Fantastic Beasts and Where to Write Them;  
**_ _Mr Bingley – Muggle!AU, (word) Capitalism, (dialogue) "Leave my presence, immediately."_

 _ **Hogwarts Fortnightly Event – Who's Your Daddy;  
**_ _Orion Black – (cliche) abusive dad._

 _ **Hogwarts Fortnightly Event – Faerie Day;  
**_ _Fire Faerie – Flame, Burn, Fire, Kindle, Ablaze, Inferno, Anger, Fuel, Wild, Uncontrollable._

 _ **Character Diversity Bootcamp;  
**_ _2\. Breath._

 _ **Favourite House Bootcamp;  
**_ _43\. Power._


	2. to escape is to heal

_**QLFC Round 4 – Pet Me;  
**_ _Arrows, Captain:_ _Write about someone known to be stoic/cold/aloof using baby-talk with a pet._

* * *

 **to escape is to heal**

Draco stares up at the building in front of him as he shakes off the queasiness from travelling by portkey. He's never been the best traveller, and long distance portkeys make it even worse, but he refuses to allow his new coworkers to see him unstable.

The building is much more normal than he was expecting—a small part of his had been expecting it to look as eccentric as he imagined the inhabitants to be. It's an old, manor-like house with ivy crawling up the walls and stone steps leading up to the grand double doors.

He takes one last breath to ready himself before forcing his face into a neutral expression and heading up the steps and through the door.

"Draco Malfoy," he tells the receptionist. "I'm the new Healer sent by St Mungo's."

"I know who you are, Mr Malfoy," the woman says, a displeased look on her face as she hands him a key. "The rooms are kept locked by the Sanctuary staff when not in use. This key will undo our locking enchantments and allow you to cast your own should you wish. You can also choose to use the key in a conventional manner if you wish to keep our locking charms. Your room is on the second floor, and there will be a meeting in the dining hall at six-thirty after which dinner will be served. Have a nice evening."

Draco doesn't listen to the woman's explanations really, he only takes in the basic information needed— second-floor room, meeting at six-thirty—and leaves as quickly as possible. His fears have all but been confirmed by the woman at reception. The people here know him, they know his reputation. The war may be over and Harry bloody Potter may have vouched for him to the Ministry, but that doesn't stop people from holding grudges against him for the things his father did. All he wanted was a fresh start away from his past, but that doesn't seem likely to happen.

* * *

Charlie has to stop himself from doing a very physical double take when he walks into the dining room. He's seven minutes late, of course, and even though he's been at the sanctuary long enough for everyone to know he'll be late, he doesn't want to draw too much attention to himself as he slips into the first free seat he reaches. Across the table from him sits a new face. Well, it was a new face to the Sanctuary, but not to Charlie. He had known there would be a new healer joining them, but he certainly wasn't expecting it to be the blond-haired man that Charlie recognised from Ron's many rants over the years sitting across from him.

"Now that we've all arrived," Carl, the head trainer at the Sanctuary, says with a deliberate look in Charlie's direction. "I'd like to introduce our newest healer, Draco Malfoy. I would also like to remind you all that the war is over and those who died fought to end prejudice. I do not want to see any of you discriminating against Mr Malfoy because of his family name. We make our own family here, and Mr Malfoy is now a part of it just as much as the rest of you."

A few murmurs spread around the table and Charlie thinks he sees Draco shrink down in his chair a little. He can't be too sure, though, because when he looks at the other man properly, he's already shifting his position so he's sitting up straight and hard-faced. He looks as if nothing can phase him. Charlie has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He had hoped the war would open the eyes of those on the opposing side somewhat, but clearly, Draco Malfoy is just as self-centred as Ron had described him.

As the meeting goes on, Charlie keeps half of his attention on Draco. He seems to be listening intently and making a lot of notes, which isn't alarming as Charlie should really be doing the same except he's using a pen instead of a quill. There's something odd about seeing a Malfoy using a pen—it's not something Charlie thinks one of the so-called 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' would even think of doing. Then he remembers that technically he's part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and has been using pens since before he graduated Hogwarts. They really are more convenient, after all.

The only time Draco moves from his position making notes it to check something in his inside pocket. Charlie assumes it's a pocket watch and rolls his eyes at Draco—there's a clock next to the door—who sends a sneer back at him.

 _Definitely hasn't changed since school then,_ Charlie thinks.

The meeting finishes and one of his coworkers immediately drags him into a conversation about the Swedish Short-Snout that's due to arrive the next day. He only half pays attention; his eyes keep wandering to where Draco is sitting. Nobody tries to talk to him, and he doesn't seem interested in attempting to start up a conversation, he just eats his dinner quickly and then leaves. Charlie can't help but wonder why Draco's here. He clearly doesn't want to make friends with anyone, and Charlie isn't sure how well that's going to work if Draco's supposed to be there to heal them all.

* * *

The first week goes surprisingly well for Draco; he's allowed to watch the newest dragon being brought in (it's his favourite breed and her scales, silver with a hint of blue, look magnificent in the sunlight so he's incredibly pleased he's allowed, not that he'd let it show, of course), the hospital wing is set up almost exactly like the wings at St Mungo's so he gathers his bearings quickly, and the other healers are all at least superficially amicable with him so he's mostly at ease while he's working. The only issue he has is Charlie Weasley.

Draco hadn't known that Weasley worked at the Sanctuary in Romania otherwise he'd have looked into the ones in Sweden, Poland and Australia more. He did know that one of the Weasleys worked with dragons—Ron wouldn't stop talking about it after the Triwizard Tournament—but he assumed Weasley would work in Wales where it was closer to home. He'd looked into Romania because it seemed to be the best dragon sanctuary in the world and it was far enough away that he thought he'd be able to escape his past. Clearly, he was wrong.

Weasley ends up in the hospital wing almost every day for some injury or another, and somehow Draco is always the one that ends up treating him.

"Why are you here, Malfoy?" he asks one morning while Draco's applying burn-paste to a particularly nasty burn on Weasley's forearm.

"To work as a healer," Draco says as calmly as he can. His guard is firmly up and it's taking every ounce of concentration Draco has to remain calm and professional. "Turn your arm, please."

Weasley does as he's asked, but he clearly isn't happy with Draco's answer. "I mean, why are you _really_ here? You don't exactly strike me as the helping kind."

Draco bites his tongue. He wants to ask how Weasley would know, it's not like they've ever been particularly interested in getting to know his family over the years, but the words from Carl's speech on his first day echo in Draco's head: _those who died fought to end prejudice_. His family and friends may have been on the losing side, but Draco knew he had been in the wrong, and if holding his tongue around Weasley is what it takes to prove that, then that's what he's going to do.

"Right, you're good to go," Draco says, deciding not to answer Weasley's question. "That should be healed in a couple of hours, and do _try_ not to get so close to the flame next time you're handling a dragon, Weasley."

The next time Weasley comes in he asks again, but Draco is determined not to let Weasley get a rise out of him. His answer is, again, "To work as a healer." Weasley doesn't seem to like the answer, but after the third time he visits and gets the same answer, he stops asking.

Apart from Weasley, the other Dragonologists seem to accept Draco's presence with ease. A few try and strike up a conversation with him, but Draco isn't sure he's quite ready to be friends with these people yet so his answers are usually short and vague, and he avoids talking about anything other than his work or the sanctuary as a whole.

Despite not making any friends, Draco isn't lonely. The Sanctuary employees aren't allowed to bring pets—something about the pets' safety around the dragons—but he'd managed to sneak Celery in and so far nobody has found out. He knows it's cliche, but Celery really is like having a little piece of home with him, only it's a little piece of home that doesn't hold any judgement. He didn't bring many material items either, just his favourite book, which he always carries with him, and a few things from school and healer training that may be useful.

Plus, he really does love seeing the dragons. He's taken to strolling around the sanctuary after his late shifts and seeing the dragons all settling down for rest. Some of them fly further into their enclosures to rest, but some are close enough to the front that Draco could reach out and touch them if he wanted to. He doesn't. Draco knows all too well the damage those dragons can cause to a human; he treats minor injuries on a daily basis.

Still, being out in the open with no judging eyes and coming face to face with a dragon for the first time. Well, the first time since school, but Draco was so far away then that he doesn't count it. How could he count it when the memory from school is nothing compared to the magnificent beasts in front of him? He can see each scale as it glints under the moonlight, feel the puffs of warm air as they breathe, and see the danger always present in the glint of their eyes. He might have come here to prove himself as a healer and escape his past, but he's found a home among the dragons he could never have imagined.

* * *

Charlie can't put his finger on it, but something doesn't seem right about Draco. From what he remembers Ron saying about him, Draco never showed any interest in creatures at school, so Charlie can't work out why he's come to work at a dragon sanctuary. He's determined to find out, though, and that's how Charlie ends up following Draco after his shift one Friday night.

He can't follow Draco into his room, but it doesn't matter because Draco is back out five minutes later and heading towards the dragon enclosures. Charlie's heard from his colleagues that Draco often spends time by the dragons, but he can't believe it until he sees it for himself. Or rather, he doesn't think he can trust Malfoy until he knows how he acts around the dragons. Everyone else here cares for the dragons, Charlie knows that, otherwise they wouldn't be here.

Charlie's inner voice seems to whisper to him. _Maybe that's why Draco doesn't seem right,_ it says. _Maybe you don't trust him because you don't believe he cares about the dragons._

He hurries on, making sure to stop when he gets to corners and make sure Draco can't see him. It's times like this Charlie wishes he could cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, but the wards block the use of them and Charlie knows it's to protect themselves around the dragons.

"Who's a good boy?"

Charlie hears a voice coming from around the corner and stops. It sounds like Draco speaking, but it has an almost sugary sweet tone that makes it sound like he's talking to a baby.

"You are," Draco coos. "You're a good boy, yes you are."

Charlie casts a non-verbal silencing charm at himself before he can burst out laughing. He's suddenly very glad he knows how to remove the charm non-verbally too. It isn't the first time he's had to do this, except last time he couldn't undo it.

"Have you missed me while I've been working? I bet you have. You're a very good boy."

Charlie can't believe what he's hearing, but he knows the Peruvian Vipertooth's enclosure is just around the corner, so maybe Draco really does care about the dragons. The blue-green of Helio's eyes are incredibly captivating, Charlie knows that all too well—it's how he ended up with a burn up his forearm a few days ago.

After composing himself, Charlie removes the silencing charm from himself and decides to face Draco and clear up this mess once and for all.

"Malfoy, what are you doing out here? You do know dragons are dangerous even to those of us with training in how to handle them, right?"

"Weasley," Draco says, his voice not holding any of the surprise Charlie thought it would. "I should've known."

"What?" Charlie asks. He didn't mean to, but Draco's statement thew him off a little.

"I knew someone was following me," he says. "I just didn't know who. I should've known it was you."

Charlie stares at him dumbfounded for a minute before his eyes focus on what's in Draco's hand. "Is that a Bowtruckle?" he asks.

It takes a moment, but Charlie finally realises who Draco was talking to and he can't help but burst out laughing.

Draco blushes slightly, but when Charlie finishes laughing he says, "Yeah, this is Celery."

The reluctance is clear in Draco's tone, but Charlie can't help but smile at the fact he's finally been given some real information, his usually cheerful demeanour coming back to him after days of irritation and unease.

"I misjudged you, Malfoy," Charlie says. "How about we put the past behind us and start fresh?"

* * *

 **Word Count:** 2,330.

* * *

 **This is for:**

 _ **Hogwarts World Cup Event – Croatia;  
**_ _Charlie/Draco_

 _ **Hogwarts Yearly Event – Insane House Challenge;  
**_ _336\. (potion) burn-heal paste_

 _ **Hogwarts Yearly Event – 365 Prompts;  
**_ _67\. (creature) bowtruckle_

 _ **Hogwarts Yearly Event – Fanfic Resolutions;  
**_ _43\. Write about a canon Death Eater doing something very undeatheatery  
62\. Write a collection based around Death Eaters_

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Character Appreciation;  
**_ _22\. (era) Trio_

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Disney Challenge;  
**_ _C5 - Write about someone with a kind heart, despite their harsh demeanour_

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Book Club;  
**_ _Tik Tok - (occupation) healer, (object) book, (word) protect_

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Showtime;  
**_ _1\. (plot point) making a fresh start_

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Amber's Attic;  
**_ _S7 - Charlie/Draco_

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Count Your Buttons;  
**_ _O2 - Pen  
D2 - "I should've known."_

 _ **Hogwarts Writing Club – Lo's Lowdown;  
**_ _C8 - (word) Poland_

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Days of the Year;  
**_ _Ballpoint Pen Day - Write about a witch/wizard using a pen instead of a quill_

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Summer Prompts;  
**_ _(word) travel_

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Colour Prompts;  
**_ _(colour) blue-green_

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Fire Element;  
**_ _(word) flame_

 _ **Hogwarts Seasonal Event – Shay's Musical Challenge;  
**_ _Book of Mormon - Write about travelling away from home for a long time_

 _ **Hogwarts Northern Funfair – Sophie's Ice Cream Stall;  
**_ _18\. Eggnogg - Draco Malfoy  
79\. Cream Cheese - Charlie Weasley_

 _ **Hogwarts Easter Funfair – Penny Slot Machine;  
**_ _1\. Charlie Weasley  
22\. Draco Malfoy  
38\. (word) magnificent_

 _ **Hogwarts Southern Funfair – Henna Tattoo Booth;  
**_ _Location: Right Arm - (trait) cheerful  
Tattoo: Dreamcatcher - (dialogue) "How about we put the past behind us and start fresh?"  
Style: Monochrome - (colour) silver_

 _ **Hogwarts July Event – Hamilton Mania;  
**_ _17\. (era) post-war  
OP2. (character) Draco Malfoy_

 _ **Hogwarts Fortnightly Event – Canadian Craze;  
**_ _19\. Moosi - Write about encountering a creature for the first time_

 _ **Hogwarts Chocolate Frog Cards Club;  
**_ _Cantankerus Nott - Reference the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' in your story_


End file.
